Equal
by breather89
Summary: Sequel to Alternate History.


Equal

Harry glumly sat outside the hospital room, wiping his eye.

Six weeks and he didn't know how he could stand this any more.

The smoke, all the smoke coming out of the building and _knowing_ Sasha was there.

The police kept asking questions. As did the doctors. They'd come to the conclusion that Sasha had died of exposure on the moor. They'd given up the search for her body and said that animals must have taken the bones.

Well, Harry mused, they got _one_ part right.

Now, after so long in the hospital, the only person who regularly visited them was a man named Dr Faust.

Dr Faust seemed interested in what Harry and Bailey were saying. He sat at the ends of their hospital beds and took down notes, pausing every few seconds to nod.

Then he pointed at Harry with his pen and told them, "Just stay here. I'll be a few minutes."

When he came back, he'd brought a weird-looking machine. It looked like a cross between a heart monitor and a TV from the 1960s.

He stood up straight and told the boys, "I am prepared to do this only once, remember. But before I do, let me tell you a little more.

"My friend, the good Dr Niemczyk, has been declared dead. But in reality, years ago, he found out a secret. When we were in the very cave that you were, studying what the noises and lights were, he found an odd reality."

"The Nazis?" Harry asked, puzzled. Did this man believe them?

The doctor shook his head, a small smile appearing on his face.

"More. He found that there are entrances to several different realities, all from broken timelines. There are so many, children, that I was astonished. A Britain where Napoleon succeeded. Where Wat Tyler succeeded. Where slavery was never banned, the Romans never settled, where Kaiser Wilhelm invaded. Where Ireland was never independent, the Americans lost the revolution, the industrial revolution never happened. Oh, boys. It was so fascinating. A historian's dream.

"But my friend was determined. Dr Niemczyk wanted to find a Britain where the Germans won."

The boys now felt very uncomfortable and wanted to press the emergency buttons. But Dr Niemczyk opened his coat, revealing a gun inside. He shook his head. "Wouldn't do that if I were you."

He put his hands together and pointed forward.

"My friend is Polish. His family grew up near Wroclaw. He was born in 1932, after it had been forced by the Treaty of Versailles to become Poland. When Poland was invaded when he was seven, he was overjoyed. His family supported the Nazis and wanted to become German again. They even brought a Nazi flag before the invasion.

"The SS admired their support. Because my friend was blond-haired, blue-eyed, he was sent to Germany. Many other Aryan-looking children from Poland were. He then grew up in a village near Hamburg. Oh, he loved being in the Hitler Youth. He always kept his uniform smart, he was such a good boy."

Bailey butted in. "He was brainwashed by monsters."

But Faust frowned, before sternly answering, "My colleague was a great man. He despaired when Germany lost the war. He was thirteen, torn by misfortune. He applied to become a doctor. As he lived in West Germany, this became much easier than if he were in the Soviet east. In 1966, he began to work in Newcastle. We met there and got along greatly, even if there was a fifteen year gap between us.

"Niemczyk heard of the strange noises and lights. We travelled there in 1968, where we went in with a machine. After our discoveries, we stole rocks to study, as well as artefacts from many other realities. You didn't notice that if you step to the back of the cave during those five hours, you can go to another one. We took everything and experimented for the following four years.

"He found out you can be transported to another reality using this machine, without the need for the cave. If you go, you can return within either an hour, a week, six months or never. You get the opportunities when you use a return portal. We tested it."

"On what?" Harry dared to ask.

The doctor tapped his fingers together. "Heard of Thalidomide?"

He sniggered at their horror.

"It was simple. Not just Thalidomide sufferers, mind. We took kids with Down's Syndrome, blind and deaf children institutionalised, terminal ill children. His idea. I was against it at first, but then grew to understand. In 1972, he decided to go. He faked bunches of documents, saying he was a doctor from Austria. He told me he would always acknowledge me and would come whenever he could to see me. He went into the cave and left me."

Then the doctor looked saddened for the first time. It was revolting, the boys thought.

Faust finished. "I was just going to get rid of you, but then I remembered what Niemczyk told me. He was so busy trying to find his good timeline that he never had time for anything else. Never married. He didn't dare do it in the other reality in case they checked his documents. He's a happy country doctor, but wants somebody. He's an old man, doesn't have much time left. So he wants a kid."

Faust stood by Harry, the machine next to him. Faust held a hand over Harry's chest, before holding it up.

"You do not need to worry. Every six months, you come back for a while to let the machine recharge, then you come back when he dies. If you're lucky, it won't be too long. Maybe about ten years, tops. I forged a bunch of documents. Oh, one more thing. He may be in his eighties, but strong as an ox."

He then held a knife up high. The boys gazed, wondering where he'd got it. Maybe from his coat, like the gun. He then stabbed Harry in the shoulder, causing him to scream. Bailey had leapt out of the bed just as the doctor held a wire from the machine on Harry.

There was a blinding flash and the boy disappeared through what looked like a blue-grey portal that submerged him. Then the doctor stood up straight, pulling a second gun from his coat. Bailey put his hands up and yelled, "What are you doing!"

But the doctor shrugged and shot.

Bailey waited for the pain. But he looked down. A small, fluffy pompom dug out from his chest. A tranquilizer dart.

He slumped to the floor as the doctor watched.

Faust held a syringe, filled with Harry's blood, in his hand as he stood over the boy. Squirting a little on the bottom of Bailey's shoe, he also did it to the walls and all over the sheet.

The first part was complete.

Harry stared around him. Instead of the hospital room, it was an office. A computer, old-fashioned and chunky, sat on the desk, by some small figurines. A shelf lined with books. Another with a few black-and-white photographs of various country scenes. Behind the desk sat a man.

This man was in a white lab coat. He had white hair, combed back. He also had the kind of glasses that looked like they'd stepped from a 1970s mugshot.

The man looked up.

"Ah, hello. Faust said he'd bring a kid." The accent seemed a mix of German and English. He stood up and walked out, pulling Harry up.

"I assume you're Harry." He then looked him over. "Hair's too long. Won't fit in."

"I want to go home." Harry demanded, feeling very frightened as the man smiled nastily.

"I'm afraid not. Not for several years anyway. Now, how you fit in."

He wanted round the desk and pulled out various weird documents. Certificates, a passport and a Hitler Youth membership.

"Your name is Heinrich Jans. You are a boy I adopted from the Alps. Your parents were Helga and Karl Jans and they were in the tourist industry before dying in an avalanche. I'll tell you more details about that later, it was frightful. Here is your Hitler Youth membership stating you have been a member for two years. The next meeting is in two days, so better brush up on it."

He seemed so clam, relaxed. It was disgusting.

Then he grabbed Harry's arm. "Don't even try to deny. If you do...well, you saw what happened to your friend."

He forcefully held Harry's hand as he took him out. Harry couldn't help but stare around the hallways.

Nurses were pushing trolleys and wheelchairs, men in white lab coats were going in and out of rooms. The reception had the hospital insignia on the walls. The Goring Institute of Northern England.

The doctor went to a car and pushed Harry into the passenger seat. Shaking, Harry did up his seatbelt.

The CDs were in the glovebox. Out of interest, Harry skimmed them. German folk songs, classical music (mostly Wagner or Beethoven) and some Norwegian singers he swore existed in his timeline.

They rode through the small town at a slow pace. Harry couldn't help but peer around.

The school (the Saint Bertha School) had children playing in a small garden surrounded by roses. Nearly all of them had blonde or at the least sandy hair. A few were brown or black-haired. Most likely descendants of the country at the time of the invasion.

They passed a grocery store, a small dentist's surgery, a butcher's, an antique shop, a bookstore, a pub, a fish-and-chip store, a music store, a small museum and a chemist's.

All had the Nazi flag hanging from outside. All had notices saying 'Jews are Forbidden'. And a great many customers seemed to be Hitler Youth or SS.

Niemczyk explained as they drove through. "This is an army base town. In the old days, the troops were stalled here to sniff out any undesirables. Now they just patrol. Being so near to a camp, the Kommandant sometimes visits. He recently brought a ring for his girlfriend."

Harry asked, "What about the people – people who were here at the invasion?"

Niemczyk asked, "The British? They were all taken to town halls, churches and the like. They were sorted. Documents stolen from raided houses. About thirty Jewish people were living here, out of a population of a thousand. They were shot. In front of everybody. They used to do that in France; get random people after an attack and shoot them as an example.

"Anyone with disabilities or alcoholics or Jehovah's Witnesses was locked up instantly. Gays were already in prison, so no chance for them. Then a troop would stay in each village or small town until the invasion was complete."

Harry asked something which had been bugging him. "How _did_ the Nazis succeed? Because they were thwarted by the D-Day landings."

Niemczyk replied. "There were a lot of Nazi sympathisers in Britain before the war. Some kept it quiet. But some time in summer 1944, some found out the locations of SOE spies. They arrested them. They also found the locations of the landings at the safehouse. So there was a plan to invade Britain via Calais.

"The problem was that the British government couldn't catch all the sympathisers. They could be anyone. That was the problem with the war. The sympathiser could be your neighbour, your teacher, maybe even your parents. Then before you knew it, they'd either been arrested giving secrets to the Germans, set fire to synagogues or run off to Germany.

"Oh, we've arrived."

Harry looked out. A nice little semi-detached house, up on a slight hill, a white picket fence surrounding them, statuettes in the garden. It appeared rather friendly aside from two things.

A maniac lived here and a Nazi flag hung outside.

Harry asked, "Is anywhere in the world equal?"

The doctor hung his hat on the hooks by the door when they got inside and began walking up the staircase. Harry had to run to catch up.

"Well, Australia gained independence in 1987. Some South American countries are fine. Russia's pretty liberal. But not really, no."

"So..." Harry followed Niemczyk into a bedroom, "the Nazis took over and stripped everyone's rights?"

"In a nutshell." Niemczyk answered, standing in the doorway, "Their associates the Japanese took over most of East Asia and hammered the Nazi belief into everyone. Even if someone doesn't support them, they're too scared to speak up."

Harry snapped back, "But you shouldn't give in to bullies! No matter how powerful they are! No matter whatever loophole they use!"

Niemczyk snarled at him and slammed the door behind him, locking it.

Harry sat down on the bed and actually let himself cry. When he'd finally wiped his tears and bothered to look around the room, he saw that Niemczyk _had_ taken some care.

There was a Hitler Youth uniform hanging up by the cupboard. A few children's books were littered around on the shelves, a train set on the floor and a CD player. Well, it _looked_ like a CD player, if only because of the opening. Frankly, it looked more like a weird radio.

Bailey woke up on the moor. The bright sunlight drifted into his eyes and he sat up, groaning. It felt as if he'd been plucked out of a tsunami.

He looked at a newspaper lying by him. It had been neatly folded. Something Faust was trying to tell him.

 _Moors Boys Missing: Blood Found in Hospital Wing_

It stated that Bailey was wanted for murder. That Dr Faust had come in and seen Bailey after hearing him spout out nonsense and say he wanted to stab himself. That Faust had come in and saw Bailey standing over Harry's body. That Dr Faust himself was injured before Bailey ran off with Harry's body and stole his car, heading to the moor.

Bailey couldn't believe it. Faust was hiding his tracks. Now Bailey would die of exposure or be arrested and Ashdene Ridge would hold a memorial. And that nobody would believe him.

He imagined Mike and May-Li, weeping in the office. Of them and the residents travelling back repeatedly to the moor, over several years, searching and searching.

No, he had to get the machine. Maybe he could get Harry back that way.

Faust said that Harry would be given the opportunity after a week to return. Well, Bailey would simply get the machine and do that.

Next day was Harry's first day at the school. It was ages four to fifteen and was the one they'd passed earlier.

Niemczyk drove him there and put a hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes. "Don't even try to do anything stupid." He ordered, pushing him out of the car.

Harry didn't like his new uniform. It was itchy, the tie hurt and the boots were too big.

When they walked into an office, Niemczyk looked straight ahead at the female receptionist.

After giving the salute, Niemczyk told her, "This is my new son. Remember, I said I was adopting?"

"Ah, you did, Herr Niemczyk," the woman nodded, "a Swiss boy."

Harry looked down, miserably. She nodded, as if understanding.

She told Harry, "Heinrich, this is your timetable. You will receive your books when you arrive at each classroom. Remember, we pride ourselves on respect."

It must be something she had repeated many times.

Harry looked behind as he saw Niemczyk walk to the car, before following the receptionist to the corridor.

"Err, what am I supposed to call you?" he asked. Her eyes glanced down slightly.

"I am Frau Baker. You will be in the same class as my daughter. She is Gemma. Be nice to her, she's really shy."

Harry saw the pictures dotted around the hallway. Sports teams' photographs, of blond boys in football or hockey uniforms, of girls' teams in gymnastics and field hockey. A class photo, taken a few years ago. This one was in the playground, with the headmaster, in mortar cap and gown, at the front. The smiling children, nearly all blond, lined up like soldiers. Harry noticed the darker-haired children were all pushed to one side.

Inside the classroom, he saw everyone sitting in rows, at long desks. A man was writing on the chalkboard.

The children all stood up and gave the salute. The teacher looked round slightly, blushing, then gave the salute.

Then he asked, "Is this the new student?"

Frau Baker nodded and then the teacher walked up, shaking Harry's hand in a firm grip.

"Gutten Morgen, Heinrich. I am Herr Durr. Come sit down next to Bruno."

Harry sat next to a rather well-built boy with sandy hair, who had several scribbles all over the desk.

Herr Durr went to the front of the classroom. "You arrived at a good time, Heinrich, because we are starting a new subject in most of our lessons today. First off, geography."

He pulled a map down from the top of the chalkboard and showed a map of Europe.

It looked rather like some maps Harry had seen of 1940s Europe, except in Poland there was a black line around the edge, leading down through Czechoslovakia, many Eastern European countries, stopping at Italy. Another line lay underneath France.

The whole section was labelled 'The Great Germanic Empire'.

Then Herr Durr, holding a cane, pointed at Germany.

"The Fatherland is the centre of the world. We control three-quarters of the globe, if you include our union with the Japanese Empire. The Furher's word is law. No question about it."

Harry felt queasy.

They soon descended to religion. Except it wasn't anything like the religion Harry had been taught. Instead of summarizing different events important to each individual religion, it was over forty-five minutes of Herr Durr barking about the evils of the Jewish race, with some little details about Martin Luther squeezed at the end.

Harry noticed that when children had their hands up, Herr Durr took the boys' answers first, only asking the girls if they were the only ones with their hands up or if the boys got it wrong. It was just wrong. The girls, he decided, might be smarter than the boys. They were just never given a chance.

After a lunch of black pudding and mashed potato, they had history. Only Germany. Just Germany.

Then literature. It was that Goldilocks was an Aryan betrayer and the bears were the Nazi party, with the bowls being a stable economy, the freedom from America and the Soviets and the lands Germany had lost.

Harry thought to himself, freedom? As if.

Then sports.

Harry was taken into a gymnasium with the other boys, whilst a woman took the girls off. The sports coach was a tall, sandy-haired man with a muscular build.

"I hear we have a new student," he spoke in a German accent, "Heinrich, I am Herr Katz and I will be your gym coach."

The next hour was the most exhausting gym lesson Harry had ever had. First off, fifteen minutes of relay, followed by fifteen minutes of push-ups. Then there was a two-minute break for water, instantly following up with a running sprint and then swimming.

Harry struggled to keep up with the other boys. He wasn't unfit, but these boys were unlike anything he'd ever seen. They'd been taught this tough regime since they could walk.

When the school day had ended, Dr Niemczyk came to pick him up. As it was in his reality, Harry saw that it was mostly women who picked up the children. As he was walking with Niemczyk to the car, a woman stood in front of them.

After they gave the salute, the woman asked, "Sorry, Dr Niemczyk, but I noticed you'd adopted. I was told when I had to take Christel to have a check-up."

Niemczyk smiled a fake smile and held a tight hand on Harry's shoulder, pulling the boy close. "Well, when you're getting old and you don't have anyone, it pays to adopt."

The woman looked fondly at Harry and then asked, "Heinrich, my son Erik is in your class. I would love it if you came over for supper one afternoon."

Niemczyk replied, "Oh, that would be wonderful, Frau Pratt. I will bring him over tomorrow."

As Harry watched from the car, he saw two children run up to Frau Pratt. A boy he recognized from the second row and a girl a few years younger. He noticed that the girl had sandy hair, not blonde hair.

The next day was Saturday and Niemczyk woke him up early. "Maybe I can show you around the town today," he told Harry, "since you need to fit in."

The first place they went to was a clothes store. Niemczyk made up some story to the man behind the counter that Harry's clothes had been lost.

The clothes that Harry got looked like they'd come out of an old movie. Shorts, t-shirt and boots seemed to make up the fashion of most of the boys here. As well as sweaters and raincoats.

The next shop was the grocery. As they went in, Niemczyk told Harry, "Unlike your timeline, supermarkets don't exist. Besides, they would be too 'democratic'."

Like the clothes shop, the design of the building looked as if it came from the past. It seemed a weird mixture of Fifties' food and Eighties' prices.

The man behind the counter asked, "The normal, Herr Niemczyk?"

Then he noticed Harry and smiled. "Ah, this must be the little _Schweizer_ I've heard so much about."

He held his broad hand out. "Herr Kramer."

Niemczyk looked down sternly at Harry, before the boy, shaking, put out a hand and almost whispered, "Heinrich Jans." The words tasted like horrible.

The Niemczyk slapped Harry on the shoulder before asking, "So, what would you like to get, Heinrich? You can choose one item and I'll pay for it."

The shelves were lined with boxes of marzipan, packets of German cookies, various jellies, fish oil, condiments, several baking packets, soup tins, syrup bottles and tins of flavoured milk.

Harry couldn't decide. But he wasn't in the mood.

So Niemczyk chose some Battenberg. When they were in the car, Harry asked, "I thought Battenberg was British."

Niemczyk answered, "Well, if it sounded German, the name stayed. Besides, it was invented by a German member of the British royal family."

Harry noted, "When I last came, some of the food was English."

Niemczyk just waved his hand around. "Well, the history of Britain _is_ mostly a mixture. You get the Celts, the Vikings, the French Normans, then you have the slaves brought to England since the south was still Wessex, then you have the Irish and then the German Jews. The Romans had black people here before the Anglo-Saxons! Many words and foods and fashions you know from your timeline are descended mainly from west Europe. Heck, there hasn't been an English monarch since 1066 that wasn't partly from anywhere in Europe."

Bailey was furious.

He was cold, wet, tired and had been running and running, trying to hide. From tourists and any possibly police. He had grass stains all over his clothes, he hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours and all he wanted was to get to the hospital and use the machine.

He dreaded what everyone at Ashdene Ridge must be thinking. But he had to save Harry.

He just _had_ to.

When Niemczyk drove to the Pratt house, Harry was unsure how to react. But Frau Pratt was in the rather fine-looking living room when they entered.

She grinned and told Harry, "The children are in the kitchen. We're having Gaisburger Marsch at the moment, but feel free to join in."

There were three children seated around the table. The two children he'd seen at the school gate and a girl about eight years old.

"Heinrich," Frau Pratt began, "this is Erik, Heida and Christel. Christel was too poorly to come to school yesterday."

"Sit by me," Erik almost ordered, pulling out a chair. Harry reluctantly did so. The Gaisburger Marsch was a beef stew with potatoes. Niemczyk told Frau Pratt he would be back at five.

Harry had no idea what to say. Erik asked him, leaning across, "What do you want to play? We can play Jew-Hunt if you want."

Harry murmured, "I don't really care what we play." It seemed the safest thing to say.

Frau Pratt asked, "So, what is Switzerland like, Heinrich?"

Harry had no idea what to say. Eventually, he answered, "There's a lot more snow."

Frau Pratt laughed and then Heida asked Harry, "Do you like reading? I like to read. I have some Blyton books upstairs."

Harry was interested in what these would look like.

Then, as he felt the conversation was getting awkward and cold, he asked Frau Pratt, "What does your husband do?"

Frau Pratt answered, "He works at the camp."

A chill ran down Harry's spine. He remembered the smoke. The realisation of what happened to Sasha...

"W-What does he do?" his lips felt dry.

Frau Pratt seemed to take time to think. "He doesn't say much. Only that he works in the dissection lab. He's a great mortician. He went to the Goebbels Medical Institute of Berlin." The way she spoke seemed to mean she was impressed, so Harry feigned interest and nodded.

Erik took Harry upstairs to his room. It had what Harry had expected; posters he presumed were of heads of state, a uniform hung up at the closet, a small teddy bear in a Nazi uniform on the bed (even the bear looked like it came from the fifties). But there were also normal things, such as some schoolbooks and a pencil case, some books and a TV and video player. A small toy train and some tin soldiers.

Harry walked over to the videos on a nearby shelf, strumming his fingers over them. Documentaries, a good number of them on German history and an 'archaeological' summary of the Aryans.

Nothing a kid should normally have.

Harry felt a lump rise in his throat. If this kid had had the chance, what would he be like, if he lived in Harry's reality? Would he be just regular, like the other boys Harry went to school with? Would he be a nerd like Gus or Mo? A sports fan like Frank or Bailey? If he'd have been in any national organization, it wouldn't be the Hitler Youth – instead, it would be Scouts or a sports team.

Instead, this kid was brainwashed from birth. To be part of a hive, eager to work hard for the 'queen bee'. Eventually, Erik would get married to some blond woman, force his kids to be like him (or if they weren't, he'd betray them in a heartbeat) and then die in some old folks home still swearing allegiance to those that stripped them of their individuality long, long before his birth.

Erik then asked, "Heinrich, would you like to go to the river? I will be fishing with some other boys soon. We also need to go to our Hitler Youth meeting tomorrow. I could take you."

Harry forced a smile. "Thank you, but I think Dr Niemczyk will take me. Besides, I haven't seen everywhere in town yet."

Erik smirked a little, then asked, "Would you like to see my pride and joy?"

Harry nodded, following. As they did, he walked past the girls' room. This one was completely different. The same posters, uniforms and teddy bears, but there were some dolls on the bed and a small dolls' house. A weird sketchbook titled _The Girl's Fashion Design_.

It was so sickeningly sweet that it almost looked as if it were from Carmen's room. But even Carmen wouldn't have dolls.

Where was Carmen, Harry pondered. Maybe still in Spain, with her mother, under the General.

When they got downstairs, Erik showed Harry a huge map on the wall. All sorts of thumbtacks lay over it. It was Europe.

"This is my dream," Erik stood proudly by it, "to be a historian and work at a library. Maybe the one in the British Museum."

He raised an eyebrow and put his head to one side and Harry realised he was supposed to be impressed.

He quickly gabbled, "I've seen bigger maps."

Erik's smile faded and he looked down. Then his head rose and he sighed, "Never mind."

When Niemczyk came for Harry that afternoon, it couldn't have been soon enough. Harry asked, "Has _everything_ remained the same since the forties?"

"Not everything," Niemczyk replied, "in 1954, when the Nazis realised every single – and I mean _every single_ – man between the ages of 10 and 90 in occupied countries were in factories or in fields or in the SS, they gave up and made women over 45 work. But only in small jobs and even then, if their children were over ten. Eventually, they had some jobs. But only restricted to things like receptionists, nurses and cleaners. And all their money goes to their father or husband."

Then he went on. "Every village has two stations. One for the normal people, one for any prisoners. Of course, now there aren't many, but...well, I suppose you'll have read about the Holocaust."

Harry's stomach tightened. But Niemczyk, oblivious, carried on talking.

"The bodies of the deformed people aren't destroyed immediately. They are studied, cut up and examined. To learn about science. It's estimated there are about ten thousand secret Jews or Jehovah's Witnesses or gypsies in Occupied Europe, those who had documents forged or hid away. But sometimes, they don't even know. The Jewish population is far, _far_ lower across the world than in your timeline, Harry."

Bailey was angry. He'd managed to hide in the hospital again, after spending more than a day diving into hedges, cutting across fields, wading through thorns and sneaking past security at the back door. Now, he would just wait. Wait in Faust's office, in the back room that he never used. A few more days. Then he could get Harry.

Next day was Sunday.

Instead of small groups of elderly people going into churches, instead there were meetings of the Hitler Youth inside the old walls.

Inside the main church, a large, oval table sat with several boys sat around it, talking.

Dr Niemczyk signed Harry in and he gingerly sat in a spare chair. A man came in from the back room and went to the head of the table.

He yelled the salute, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

After the salute, they all sat down and he spoke.

"Boys, we have a new member today. Heinrich Jans from Switzerland. Come here, Heinrich." Harry walked to the head of the table. "Would you like to talk about yourself, Heinrich?"

Harry felt very scared. He had no idea what to say.

So he then muttered, "I like going for walks. And pretzels. A-And supporting the Furher."

The man bellowed out a laugh, before he introduced himself. "I am Herr Duke. I am in charge of all the Hitler Youth for this town. You will be in Claus' group."

The boys were then taken off to separate rooms. Claus, Harry saw, was a tall, stern boy with brown hair. There were six other children in their group, who all shouted their names out in introduction.

"Alfred!" "Bruno!" "Dirk!" "Edmund!" "Frederick!" "Gunther!"

Claus told Harry, "Today, we will do an option of biking or hiking on the moor. Which will you take?"

Harry quickly chose biking. He went with Edmund, Gunther and boys from another group.

They were fierce, fast and determined. But they would, Harry said to himself. When they had been biking for an hour, one of the boys asked, "What is Switzerland like?"

Harry thought quickly.

"Colder than this. Oh, and there are more fir trees." The boys seemed to accept this.

Eventually the conversation moved to the boys' history. Edmund said his grandparents were children when Germany invaded, that his family were split up when his grandfather was moved north. "He was a pure Aryan, so he was taken to 'resettlement'."

Gunther said his great-grandparents had lived in Denmark when it was invaded in 1940. His father moved to Britain in the 1980s. He'd said that his great-grandparents in Britain had been harbouring Jews.

"I was ashamed, of course," he explained, as if this were simply nothing, "but my grandmother was quick. She was only eleven years old when the Nazis invaded. So when she got the chance, she walked up to one that was walking down the street with a bayonet. She told them her parents were hiding Jews. She was let free as she'd ratted them to the SS."

Harry thought this was the most revolting thing he'd ever heard a child say. Worse, they seemed _proud_ of what had happened to their families.

It was brainwashing, pure and simple. Manipulated from birth.

On Monday, after school, Dr Niemczyk took Harry to fish at the river. Some of the other boys were there, though Harry acted as if he would prefer to be with Niemczyk. Considering everything, he probably did.

Walking down on the riverside, he looked at something.

A kid was by the larger rocks, almost obscured from view. Holding a small hook, he was grabbing at the fish in the water, trying to get them.

When he stood up, Harry saw his clothes were ragged and dirty. The boy took one look at Harry, before bounding back into the trees. Harry chased after him, ignoring Dr Niemczyk.

Deep in the caves, he saw the boy properly, feet in front of him.

The boy snarled at him, almost like an animal. Harry put his hands up in front of him.

"Hey, look, I'm not gonna hurt you." Harry started, but then he saw a woman burst out from the nearest cave.

Harry, startled, turned, but saw the cave was more likely a railway tunnel. Maybe it hadn't been used in a long time?

The woman could only have been in her thirties, but her grey hair made her appear much older. Unlike the boy, she hadn't dressed as if she'd taken the clothes out of a garbage heap. Instead, she wore a long skirt and blouse.

"What is it, Davey?" she asked the boy. The boy stared at Harry, like a dog about to pounce. Then the woman pointed at him. "Get him!"

Harry tried to run, but the boy lunged in a rugby tackle, grabbing Harry's legs. He then held a hand tight around Harry's flailing wrist, his other over Harry's mouth.

The woman came further up, then held the end of a shotgun right by Harry's temple. He began to sweat. The woman asked, "What are you doing here?"

Then she scoffed and looked up at the sky. "Davey, take him back."

The boy stood, still holding Harry's arm and mouth. Harry dug his heels into the rocky ground, causing the boy to half-drag, half-carry him back into the tunnel.

A few yards into the tunnel, he heard a lock turning. The woman opened a door and the boy pulled Harry inside.

In the dim light, Harry saw he was in a basement. There was a mattress with a red woollen blanket lying across the side, with some pillows and a few notebooks. There was scribble on the wall, a few chairs and some children's books scattered around. A rug lay on the floor, with a tin bath.

Then the boy held Harry down on one of the chairs, hurting Harry's back. He winced in pain.

The woman lay the shotgun against a wall and walked over.

"Let him go." She told the boy, who took his hand from Harry's mouth and then held Harry's arms behind the chair.

Harry managed to argue, "Dr Niemczyk's looking for me. I have to go."

The woman told him, "Not yet. Davey, I tell you to..."

The boy mumbled. "I have to be careful."

The voice seemed familiar, but Harry couldn't place it right at that moment. The woman then asked Harry, "You're Dr Niemczyk's kid? I heard he had one."

"I'm not a Nazi!" Harry shouted, desperate, "I hate the Furher!"

The woman stood still, looking right at Harry. Harry went on. "The Furher?" he then spat on the ground.

The woman came closer. "Maybe I could trust you." Then her eyes instantly turned to the boy.

"Davey, see if Dr Niemczyk is nearby."

The boy let go of Harry and walked to what harry had assumed were pipes. Now he saw it was a periscope, with the boy looking.

"There's somebody coming."

"Is it a man in a white coat?"

"It's a man with a white coat and he looks angry. I think he's trying to talk to father."

The woman then pulled him from the periscope and asked, "Well, what now? The kid's probably going to tell him. There's no way I'm letting you go to camp!"

The boy sniffed. "I don't want to be in the chimney!"

Harry looked right at them. The woman's nails were by her mouth, as if she were going to chew. Then she glanced at the stairs.

Harry asked, "What's your name? It's Davey, isn't it?"

The boy nodded and walked closer so Harry saw him under the light.

His hairs pricked up on end when he recognised that face. Finn.

He understood everything. In this reality, Finn's parents locked him up, so their son wouldn't be sent off to camp at birth. This explained why Finn was underdeveloped. He probably lived in the basement.

Harry stood up, hands outstretched. "Listen, I won't tell Dr Niemczyk. You can promise me."

"Why should I believe you?" the woman asked him. Harry tried. "Please, you _have_ to listen to me," he begged, "because I want to help."

The woman told him, "In this world, you're one of two things. The first is Aryan. The second is everything else. You're born Aryan, good for you. But if you're born anything else, you're imperfect, you're worthless. My daughter is fifteen, a good little 'Aryan' girl with my grandparents' genes. But him? They'd kill him."

Harry nodded. "I completely understand your situation."

Then he ran up the stairs, the woman quickly following.

Harry burst out into a tiled kitchen and saw Dr Niemczyk at the door. "Sorry," he apologised quickly, "they were going to give me a shilling if I tidied their garden. I got thirsty so I went inside."

Dr Niemczyk glared slightly at Harry, before looking at the man in the doorway. "I am sorry, my new son is rather curious," he smiled politely, "I'm sure you'll pay him in time."

He gave the salute, before pushing Harry out of the house.

On Tuesday, the class were told first thing that the Commandant would be visiting the school. Everyone then began talking in hushed whispers, apparently excited. Harry felt his blood run cold. He couldn't face someone who actually was paid to let all this happen.

But still, all the children stood on benches in the playground, as if they were going to have a photograph. Harry stood awkwardly between two boys in the third row from the top, noticing that no-one uttered a word.

It was really spooky.

Then a car drove up, with small Nazi flags waving on it. When it parked in the playground, the driver got out of the front and walked around to the passenger door.

He opened the door and saluted, as a tall, striding man came out, before helping out a young woman by the hand. The man wore a pressed suit with medals on and a helmet, the woman had a red dress and most of her hair was under a light purple hat.

Then the man saluted and bellowed at the top of his voice. The children and teachers followed suit. Harry squeezed his eyes shut as he did so, tearing up inside.

He'd been pushed into a mould. Made to do this because otherwise he would be frowned upon. He was expected to act, say and do what everyone else did. Individuality stripped away. The worst part? The fact that he was lucky.

He saw the headmaster talk to the Commandant, concerning the school's achievements and their recent visit to Berlin.

But Harry was getting uncomfortable, standing and sweating. He saw some of the other children were as well.

Then he saw the woman who had come with the Commandant. She was looking round, as if perhaps a little bored, exhausted and fed up.

His heart thudded in his mouth as he looked at her properly.

Lily.

He could hardly believe it.

He had a strange mix of feelings all at once. He wanted to run, he wanted to hide, he wanted to attack her and ask why, he felt like he'd wet himself any moment.

Other Lily was annoyed.

He had brought her to another boring school, to show off what a good man he was, helping them for their future. Hah!

She used to be just like him. She used to order her sisters around, especially since their father was taken away. She used to believe in the Fatherland and that she was chosen. That since she was the right physical appearance, she was made to be part of the 'acceptable' future.

She had believed that there were two ways to serve the Furher. A man by fighting, by working, by giving for the German Reich. A woman by bearing healthy children and pleasing her husband.

She had been taught from an early age that even the wonderful woman down the street, who gave all her spare food to hungry children, was less important than the grumpy three-year-old neighbour who hit his sister and threw his food at cats.

She had also been taught that there were many undesirables. The Jews. The gypsies. The Communists. The alcoholics, the homosexuals, the prostitutes, Jehovah's Witnesses, physically and mentally disabled.

Other Lily had been told all of this, believed it and lived by this, just as her mother had, her grandparents been forced to do so.

At least, until those children had come.

She had glimpsed another world, just for a moment.

Groups of people, dressed strangely, searching and calling for the children. That for them, it didn't matter that one child was black and another a dwarf, they saw them as children, helpless children that were in danger.

She had taken the girl and let her die. For some reason, some tiny thought niggling at the back of her head, she had asked for the dwarf to be locked in the selective area of the laboratory. Just in case.

Sometimes, she went back and looked at her semi-frozen body. Wondering.

 _What would life be, if the Germans lost?_

She had never told anyone. She hadn't told anyone that she had glimpsed another world or stole the Commandant's brother's trousers or found the dwarf by herself.

But it still made her think.

Would she be happy?

As a small blonde girl brought a bouquet of hideous blue roses to the Commandant, Other Lily looked out at the children.

She began to imagine all of them being different. Different hobbies, different loves, not spending all day being trained to be in the SS or to stay at home to be a good wife and mother. She even began to – horror amongst horror – Jews on those benches, or African children or Asian children, not dressed in 'local garb', as they did in movies, but all in the same school uniform.

All happy, all the same.

Was such a world even possible?

Then the Commandant shouted, at the top of his voice, "My fiancée and I are holding a celebration on Thursday. I would thoroughly enjoy it if some of the children attended for a small demonstration."

The cheering almost swallowed Harry as it bounced around him.

At the end of the school day, in the middle of maths, a child from the lower school came to the classroom. Herr Katz let them in, causing her to announce, "Herr Commandant will allow those in Herr Duke and Frau Messer's groups in the Hitler Youth and Jungmadel to attend his celebration at his mansion on Thursday."

Whispers and groans all around him. Harry dreaded this. Now, he'd have to face the Commandant! He would rather die!

Then a horrible thought made his spine tingle. On Thursday, it would have been a week. He _had_ to be near the machine Dr Niemczyk presumably had in this reality, otherwise he'd have to spend six months before he got another chance. There was no way he was going to live for six months with all this hate emitting from everyone, whether they believed it or not.

Bailey was now exhausted. He had lived in Dr Faust's office for days, weak, hungry and determined. He'd get Harry back, show it was a mistake, then get Faust. He had no idea how they'd accept the idea of another reality, but if Harry was shown alive, he could pretend that they'd been abducted by Faust.

This seemed the only way.

He saw from the office calendar that it was Wednesday. Just one more day and he could put all this insanity behind him.

Harry stood at the edge of the playground, not interested in any of the games. The boys were playing rugby and pretend soldiers. The girls were, at the roughest, playing hopscotch. But most of them were playing with dolls. Someday, those boys would be soldiers and those girls would be wives.

Lives ruined before they'd began.

Erik came up and asked, "Would you like to play with us?"

"No thank you." Harry told him, looking out over the railings.

"Are you sure? We need someone else on the football team." Erik tried. But Harry didn't budge. Erik walked off, a little unnerved. He decided not to tell him that he and his mother would be attending the celebration. Heida was in the selected Jungmadel. He and his mother were coming at the end to take her back.

That afternoon, Harry walked up to the house where Davey's parents lived. After he knocked on the door, Davey's mother answered. She looked terrified when she saw him. But then she pursed her lips and said, "Thank you for not telling the SS about Davey."

Harry nodded. Then he asked, "Can I come in? This could take a while."

When he and Davey's parents had sat round the table, he told them what he could. That he was from another reality. He didn't know if they'd even accept that idea but Davey's father said that they'd read _War of the Worlds_ , since his grandfather had a collection of books they'd hidden from the Nazis. In fact, it had been hidden in the basement Davey lived in now.

Davey's father ran his fingers through his hair as he thought.

"A world – where Hitler lost. Doesn't bear thinking about." He muttered. He asked, "Are you happy in that world?"

Harry nodded. Then Davey's father asked, "Are you a Christian? Sorry to be blunt, but the Nazis have all but eliminated religion from Britain."

Harry shrugged. Then he said, "There are Jews walking around and you wouldn't know they were."

Davey's mother rested her hand on a curled fist. "My grandmother had a Jewish friend. A girl named Esther. They brought relatives from Belgium to live with them. Then, my grandmother came home from school and learnt Britain was invaded. She saw Esther being marched, hands on her head, to the street, with some of her family and they were lined up. My grandmother had to watch them being shot. Their bodies were flung off the cliffs at the moor."

She looked distraught. She sounded as if she were about to cry. "Esther was just twelve. Her brother – he was only six. And he was so looking forward to getting a bicycle for getting good grades. What threat were they to Germany?"

Davey's father looked Harry in the eye.

"I don't know if you were told this, but it wasn't just Protestant – sort of – Nazis against Jews or Jehovah's Witnesses or any other religion. They hurt Christians as well. Vicars had to disband or change decoration to include the Nazi flag inside. The church in Rome changed the Lord's Prayer so now it says to protect the Fatherland. And frankly, the Vatican's lucky. The Nazis could have shot them and made it into a museum."

Harry told them, "I remember when I last came. A history book said they killed Mormons over in America."

Davey's father was frowning furiously as he went on, gesturing.

"Thing was, _everyone_ now thought differently. They didn't go to church as much because they were scared the SS might punish them in some way. Nobody _said_ it was a crime now, indeed, they make you select your religion on forms. But if you select any Christian sect (and 'Fatherland' is the only other option), they glare at you as if you're some caveman.

"I mean, it's stupid! Religion isn't evil, people are. Same reason when I hear people saying they look down on Germans. They were _starving_! German marks increased every day in the Twenties! In one case, a woman had a wheelbarrow full of money outside a shop and while she wasn't looking, someone stole the wheelbarrow and left the money. And since the Great War, the Allies bled them dry. No wonder they supported someone who said that they'd make Germany strong again. And now people say bad things when nearly every voter from back then are dead. Besides, Hitler wasn't even German."

He sighed, leaning in his chair. "Sorry, Harry, it's been a long time. My entire life."

He asked, "Your – friend. You said he was black. Do you know any other black people?"

Harry's eyes widened, but he told them, "I do. A girl – she used to look after me – she was mixed-race."

Davey's mother looked as if someone had told her the moon was really orange. "I – sorry, Harry, I must seem an idiot to you."

Harry shook his head. "You've grown up differently. So, are you going to help me?"

Davey's father nodded. "It's the least we can do to help. But promise me that Davey will be all right."

Harry nodded. He knew what he needed to do.

He later stood at the Commandant's manor, lined up with other boys from the group, as they all held musical instruments.

He had trouble wondering why this place looked familiar. Then he realised. It was where the residents had acted out as Edwardians. Great, just to make it more annoying. Though, he would know the way around. It looked as if it had hardly changed. Well, apart from the big banners with swastikas, obviously.

The girls' group was opposite the boys' group in the main hall. They too held musical instruments. Harry felt lucky. He had a triangle. The other boys carried massive cellos and violins and trumpets. They'd also had to carry them all the way from the village.

As the Commandant arrived at the top of the stairs, dressed in a suit and tie, all the children began playing their instruments loudly. Then Other Lily came from the other side and took his hand, as he walked down and waved softly, grinning throughout.

The Commandant then stood at the foot of the stairs, grinning immensely. He held a hand up and announced, "In July, my fiancée, Frauline Lily Kettle, will become Frau Herr Steinmann!"

As everyone applauded, Harry couldn't help but feel fury. In his reality, Lily was kind, likeable and a great friend. Even if she was moody when she didn't get her way. Here, she was completely different.

She had been brainwashed. She had so much opportunity in his reality, but here this was all she could be – the wife of a well-loved man.

It seemed to tear Harry in two.

As everyone walked around the buffet tables in the dining room, helping themselves to pretzels and Black Forest gateau, he walked out. He had to do this.

He had taken the machine and planted it in the back of the Hitler Youth van, the one belonging to Herr Duke. Herr Duke had driven up in the car park. Harry would just have to wait until Davey arrived, then they could create a distraction.

As he waited, Other Lily, fed up of all the conversations the Commandant was having with guests, decided to go outside. As she walked, she saw something on the ground, by the bushes by the door.

Strange, it appeared to be some hard surface. She tapped it. She almost jumped when a light came out and a picture of a dog appeared. She could work out something on the side. It appeared to be a telephone. Though unlike any telephone she had seen before.

She sat on the giant swing on the veranda. She could see some photographs. Strange.

She recognised them. The blonde boy, the black boy.

She gasped, then curiosity got the better of her as she leafed through.

Photos of children. They all looked different. All happy, living in the same house. They had different skin tones, different coloured hair. But they all seemed equal.

It didn't matter what they looked like.

They all seemed happy.

A photograph of all of them in a garden. She saw the blond boy, the black boy, the dwarf, all together, with others. A boy with glasses, a pair of twins (she rarely saw twins), a Chinese woman, an African girl, a Spaniard, a mixed-race boy with an arm around a white girl's shoulder, a boy she swore must have Down's or some similar condition.

But they were all standing together. Not like pictures of households she had seen where the non-Aryans were servants standing at the side. Together, as friends.

If Other Lily believed in them, she would have called this, people living together without issues over race or religion, a miracle.

Then she flicked back, heart racing.

Then she stopped, her hands shaking, as she dropped the electronic. Her heart in her mouth, she took another look.

It was her. Sure, her hair was loose and she wore clothes that didn't appear smart, but _it was her_. In the next picture, it was one of her with the Spanish girl.

She remembered what the blonde boy had said. She was friends with a Spaniard.

Freedom.

This was what she would have been, if the world turned out differently. If she had grown up with opportunities and choice and independence.

Other Lily then thought something. Something that, with her brainwashing, she had never dared contemplate.

 _If I don't act now, what will life be like for my sisters? Or any children I'll have? I don't want them to grow up with their life paths already chosen for them before they were born._

Deep in the back of her mind, she thought hard. Even though she'd grown up like this, how could she stay here? Fine, the Commandant would give her a life where she wouldn't have to be working in the fields or in a factory or as a nurse. Even with him going out every day, she'd have servants to talk to. And they'd be doing the cooking and cleaning. To other women, she'd seen like a queen. For the rest of her life, she could never argue with the Commandant, or he'd think up something horrible for her. Every time she'd be thinking of disagreeing with him about politics, he'd glare at her. As if she was something disgusting. Right now, she needed to move.

But before she could, she saw something in the bushes. Standing up, she marched over to them, calling, "I can see you! I'll get the guards; you're trespassing on private property!"

Then she saw something plunge in front of her face. A hook. A sharp one with dried blood. She felt faint as she heard someone whisper, "You'll do what I say, won't you?"

Harry had got fed up. He'd walked back inside, because something was on his mind. He saw Heida standing by the buffet table, deciding between apple strudel and gingerbread.

"Heida," he asked, "Could you come with me, please?"

She looked a little bewildered, but did as he asked.

Harry had seen this girl from the sidelines. She seemed to be the only girl here who wanted – or dared – something different. He'd seen drawings in her notebook when he'd been forced to go to Erik's house yesterday. She'd drawn people holding hands.

Little stick figures. But they were all different colours. And she'd put that she wanted to be in the police.

Headstrong, determined.

But brainwashing hadn't worked.

When they got to the van, Harry asked, "Do you want to see something?"

She waited, before she nodded, smiling.

He then opened the doors, peering round. He checked his watch. He had twenty minutes.

Was he doing the right thing? He'd be taking this girl away from her life. He knew how that felt. But, somehow, he knew she didn't fit in with her parents. He'd seen her scowl. Her notebook said she hated her family. Was it childish anger or did she really not belong?

He asked, "Do you like your life here? I mean, you don't want to live anywhere else? Where the Nazis can't get you?"

Her eyes widened in horror, probably because she would afraid someone would hear them. Or maybe she was scared because that was forbidden. But then her face grew into a smile and she nodded.

Harry began to attempt to tell her, but then he looked round. Davey was standing behind them, holding the hook.

Heida almost shrieked, but Harry quickly pushed her inside and slammed the doors.

He turned to Davey, annoyed. "What happened? I thought you were doing to do a distraction."

Davey looked Harry in the eye as he replied, "I turned the fuse box off. But the Commandant's fiancée was around the back and she noticed me."

Harry almost screamed, but instead he ran into the house, looking round. He didn't want anyone to be hurt.

In Faust's office, Faust held a gun in his hand. He'd found Bailey under the desk after trying to grab the machine. Now he had the pistol against Bailey's forehead and was sorting the machine.

"I'm sending you there forever. Should have done when I had the chance." He was murmuring.

He looked right at Bailey with a horrible smirk on his face. "You won't last a minute there."

But Bailey was determined. As soon as the machine whirred, he scowled at Faust.

He'd already worked out what he may do.

When Bailey arrived, he was in darkness. Fumbling along the wall, he found the light. He was in a study. Before he could do anything, he heard the telephone ring.

He had no idea how to use it. It had two separate pieces. But he got the hang of it and answered.

"This is the church," a female voice answered, "and we are here about the celebration at the Commandant's manor. The Hitler Youth group will return a bit later; the electricity's down." Then she paused.

Bailey mumbled, "This is the Niemczyk residence."

"Who are you?" the woman asked.

"I'm a friend." It was the first thing that came to Bailey's mind.

The woman asked, "All right. Would you like me to fix you to the manor?"

Bailey swallowed. "Well...could I talk to Dr Niemczyk's son please?"

"Who should I say is calling?" the woman asked, as a series of buzzes began.

"Tell...tell him..." Bailey tried hard, "Arnold Schwarznegger. He'll know who wants him."

Then Bailey waited, heart thumping. What if Dr Niemczyk came back? Or someone else came? He didn't know what to do. He didn't even know where Harry was.

Looking at a road map on the desk, he followed it with a finger. The manor was secluded a short way from the village, but he could see where it was. Niemczyk had dotted his house with a cross, so Bailey saw it was only a few streets away. He could cycle there.

Then a voice answered.

A voice Bailey had wanted to hear for what seemed like eternity.

"It's Heinrich."

"Harry?"

Harry's heart skipped a beat as he trembled, holding the receiver. "Bailey? Why are you here?"

"Faust sent me. Look, do you know where the machine is?"

"It's only a few yards from me. Don't worry. I have to take care of things first."

Harry dropped the receiver and dived to the front hall, where Davey was cowering in the coat cupboard under the stairs.

"What is it?" he asked Davey.

Davey took him by the – rather strong – hand and pulled him upstairs. He stopped by a bedroom and opened the door, turning the light on.

Harry saw a girl spread-eagled on the bed. Her hands had been firmly tied to the railings and a tie in her mouth.

Other Lily.

Harry's blood froze as Davey picked up the phone. He handed it to Harry, asking, "What's this?"

Harry shook as he held it in his hand. He then looked up at Other Lily. He asked Davey, "What are we going to do?"

Then a voice answered them from the window.

"I think you will do what I tell you." Dr Niemczyk was sitting there, glaring.

"I came when I realised my machine was gone. So, I'm going to make you stay. I'll shoot the boy. And the woman. Then you will never try and do anything stupid ever again."

Harry spat, "You're horrible!"

But Niemczyk, holding a gun glinting in the moonlight, simply gave a wide grin. He held the gun high and shot.

At that moment, the Commandant had opened the door. The bullet went straight past Davey and hit the Commandant.

Harry, Davey and Dr Niemczyk stared in horror and surprise.

Other Lily tried screaming.

The boys rushed out the room as fast as lightning. Dr Niemczyk simply kicked the Commandant's body into the room and locked the door.

Harry and Davey had reached the van. Bailey stood outside, ducking in the shadows. Harry opened the door to the van as Bailey dived in. Dr Niemczyk lunged and grabbed Harry as the four disappeared.

Harry, Bailey, Dr Niemczyk and Heida appeared in Faust's office just as an officer inside was talking to Faust, along with a few other doctors and a plain-clothes detective. The sound of the gun going off had alerted them.

They all gaped in surprise as the four appeared in the office.

The officer asked, slowly, "What is the meaning of this?"

He looked down at Harry. "Harry Jones? The missing boy? But Bailey had killed you."

Bailey stood up and Harry grabbed onto him, desperate not to weep. Bailey snapped, "I didn't hurt him. I went into another reality. A reality where the Nazis won. Dr Niemczyk," he pointed, "has been living there for forty years. Look him up. Faust was helping him."

The officer had no idea what to say. But looking at Bailey's dirty clothes, the Hitler Youth uniform on Harry and the alarmed-looking doctor, he decided this might be the only answer.

It would work in with what the plain-clothes detective found in Faust's notes. He'd called them nonsense, but it might work.

Thing was, Harry was alive.

As they took Harry, wailing, out of the room and Bailey to get a shower, the officer, with Niemczyk taken off to the police van, looked down at the girl. He crouched down and asked her, "What's your name?"

The girl replied, " _Ich verstehe nicht_."

Then he drew a hand through his hair. The girl wore an odd uniform. It was very similar to the Hitler Youth uniform. She was scared, but he knew she didn't show it.

Then she looked straight ahead.

"Do you speak German?" she asked, in plain English.

He blinked. "Not really."

"But you're speaking German."

"I'm speaking English. You are too." She stood up, before asking, "Is Dr Niemczyk a bad man? Mother said he was a good family doctor."

But then the officer drew in a breath. "What's your name?"

"Heida." She replied. He took her hand and told her, "I think we need to have a _long_ talk."

A couple of weeks later, Niemczyk was looking out behind prison glass at Mike. Mike had told Harry to stay at Ashdene Ridge while he came here. He wanted to know.

Everything had been kept quiet. All the public knew was that Harry had been found alive, unharmed (at least, physically) and that Bailey was innocent.

Mike looked across at this man. This man, whose idea of brilliance was where people were judged because of who their parents were, where they came from, what they looked like. Where your opportunities were chosen by others.

He looked straight ahead and whispered to Niemczyk the one question he wanted.

"Where is Sasha?"

A large grin emerged on Niemczyk's face and he replied, "I will never tell you."


End file.
